Ah 2008, you sorry, piece of shit excuse of a year. So happy to see you skittering across the floor toward the door. You will NOT be missed. What, after all, did you give us? Tina Fey playing the dumbest woman in America and…nothing. Or damn close to it.
But it’s not just what you failed to give us, but how you failed us. Here’s what the bench at DreamLoom think.
Kari G.
The Office.
What can I say? The Office has broken my heart. And mine is not just any heart, mind you: mine is a heart that attended The Office Convention in Scranton in 2007. Alone. Do you know what I’m saying? I was A FAN. And maybe a loon, but that is neither here nor there because the show I used to love the best is now the one I like the least. I have no idea where any of these storylines are going and have stopped caring about what will happen when they get there. I won’t blame it on the pairing of Jim and Pam, because I loved them apart and I love them together, but in general the writers seem to have hit a wall. Two years ago Jim left for Stamford and came back. Last season Ryan left for New York and came back. Then Pam left for New York and came back. Then Toby left for Costa Rica and came back … so can we try something else now? Also, I am fully in favor of maintaining these characters as occasionally (or even primarily) unlikable as long as they are recognizable as people, but that’s no longer the case, either. They’ve all become cartoons.
The death before birth of Good Behavior.
Shame on you, ABC. For the first time since Charlie’s Angels (okay, and Pushing Daisies), you had me in your corner. You actually went ahead and shot the pilot for a new series from Veronica Mars creator Rob Thomas, starring the great Catherine O’Hara—my favorite comedic actress of all time—along with Gary Cole, Jeffrey Tambor, and Mae Whitman. And then you killed it before I even had the chance to see it. This is just the sort of grave mistake I have a hard time forgiving, because now I think you’re idiots.
The cancellation of Pushing Daisies.
It’s all about Olive Snook and those two batty, swan-like aunts for me. It wasn’t perfect, but they always aimed for the skies, you know? There’s something inherently noble in the trying, and in the originality and commitment to the vision, and it was a sweet, lovely ride.
Tawnya J.
The cancellation of Dirty Sexy Money.
With a few plothole exceptions I enjoyed the show for the guilty pleasure it was. I mean Donald Sutherland? Come on – it was an awesome show with great talent.
The cancellation of Lipstick Jungle.
When do we ever get to see the women as the successful, have-it-all, corporate giants? Yes, I liked Cashmere Mafia better, but when it was canceled I pinned my hopes on having something fun to watch with Brooke Shields leading the way.
The cancellation of Pushing Daisies.
A delight to the eyes and senses. I enjoyed every show. PD was so much different from most of the crap on TV. The execs could have AT LEAST given it one more season.
Reality TV
I might love American Idol (hey, it requires talent) but other than that reality TV truly sucks. But what really pissed me off was Bachelor Family. The sick, disgusting person who thought it would be clever to involve a child in a stupid “who gets to fuck me” type of show ought be beat and hung up on a light post for a few days.
The only great highlight for me that still is around? Worst Week. Or did that get canceled too? Oh – and the presidential elections. That was interesting. It’s about time Americans appeared to care more about what is going on around them than fluff on TV.
R.A. P.
Disney/ABC/ABC Family.
If you own a third of the network landscape, how is it you can’t find room for Pushing Daisies? Stick it on ABCF, or make a new network if need be. Just find it a damn home. And don’t toy with our emotions: release the DVD set for The Middleman and let Javi go make something else brilliant. I know you’re not going to bring back this quirky, wonderful little show because, well, see Pushing Daisies above. You’re more interested in, I don’t know, stroking Shonda Rhimes insane and fragile ego than putting on quality shows.
Yes, I have personal pain around the PD cancellation, since my rock-goddamn-solid spec script can now be tossed on the ash heap, but I’d throw it away willingly if it meant Olive and Emerson, Ned and Chuck, Pigsby, Digsby, and the wacky, wonderful Aunts were going to be staying around.
Lionsgate.
Alright, I hope this pre-emptive diss at Lionsgate isn’t necessary, but if they don’t resolve Matt Weiner’s goddamn contract soon, they’re going to be tops of every 2009 worst-of list. And because I’m feeling peevish today, I’m putting them here now in anticipation of their stupidity.
Dexter, where are your balls?
Ponied up for Showtime specifically to watch Dexter this year and…was…let down. How down? While I didn’t feel as negatively toward the third-season slip as a lot of critics, I haven’t finished the season. That’s right. There are four episodes sitting on the Tivo, waiting for me to work up the motivation to watch.
NBC.
Ben Silverman’s contract is being extended. Nuff said.
The WGA.
Bunch of fucking pussies. I wanna be a member of this guild someday; hopefully by then the members’ testicles will all have dropped. Because he says it so much better than I, and his FOUR WGA Awards should fucking mean something, lemme reprint Harlan Ellison’s response to the “deal”:
HARLAN ELLISON ON THE WRITERS STRIKE SETTLEMENT
YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION TO RE-POST THIS ANYWHERE:
Creds: got here in 1962, written for just about everybody, won the Writers Guild Award four times for solo work, sat on the WGAw Board twice, worked on negotiating committees, and was out on the picket lines with my NICK COUNTER SLEEPS WITH THE FISHE$$$ sign. You may have heard my name. I am a Union guy, I am a Guild guy, I am loyal. I fuckin’ LOVE the Guild.
And I voted NO on accepting this deal.
My reasons are good, and they are plentiful; Patric Verrone will be saddened by what I am about to say; long-time friends will shake their heads; but this I say without equivocation…
THEY BEAT US LIKE A YELLOW DOG. IT IS A SHIT DEAL. We finally got a timorous generation that has never had to strike, to get their asses out there, and we had to put up with the usual cowardly spineless babbling horse’s asses who kept mumbling “lessgo bac’ta work” over and over, as if it would make them one iota a better writer. But after months on the line, and them finally bouncing that pus-sucking dipthong Nick Counter, we rushed headlong into a shabby, scabrous, underfed shovelfulla shit clutched to the affections of toss-in-the-towel summer soldiers trembling before the Awe of the Alliance.
My Guild did what it did in 1988. It trembled and sold us out. It gave away the EXACT co-terminus expiration date with SAG for some bullshit short-line substitute; it got us no more control of our words; it sneak-abandoned the animator and reality beanfield hands before anyone even forced it on them; it made nice so no one would think we were meanies; it let the Alliance play us like the village idiot. The WGAw folded like a Texaco Road Map from back in the day.
And I am ashamed of this Guild, as I was when Shavelson was the prexy, and we wasted our efforts and lost out on technology that we had to strike for THIS time. 17 days of streaming tv!!!????? Geezus, you bleating wimps, why not just turn over your old granny for gang-rape?
You deserve all the opprobrium you get. While this nutty festschrift of demented pleasure at being allowed to go back to work in the rice paddy is filling your cowardly hearts with joy and relief that the grips and the staff at the Ivy and street sweepers won’t be saying nasty shit behind your back, remember this:
You are their bitches. They outslugged you, outthought you, outmaneuvered you; and in the end you ripped off your pants, painted yer asses blue, and said yes sir, may I have another.
Please excuse my temerity. I’m just a sad old man who has fallen among Quislings, Turncoats, Hacks and Cowards.
I must go now to whoops. My gorge has become buoyant.
Respectfully, Yr. Pal, Harlan Ellison